My Daughter Married A “perfect” Man, But His “Deaf” Friend Didn’t Realize I Understand Every Word They Sign. I Caught Them Planning To Rob Her At Dinner. How Should I Reveal The Truth?
Tom was thorough and discreet. I gave him Marcus’s name, his supposed company, and everything I knew.
“What am I looking for?”
Tom asked.
“I don’t know,”
I admitted.
“Just tell me if he’s who he says he is.”
Tom called me back in 4 days.
“Eleanor, we need to talk, not over the phone. Can you come to my office?”
My stomach dropped.
“That bad?”
“Yeah, that bad.”
I met Tom at his small office in Tempe. He slid a folder across his desk.
“Marcus Blake doesn’t exist. At least not the way your daughter knows him.”
“What?”
“His real name is Marcus Brennan. He’s a con artist. He’s done this three times before—marries wealthy widows or divorcees, gains access to their finances, then disappears with everything.”
“His last victim in California lost $800,000 before she even realized what happened. There’s a warrant out for him in San Diego.”
I felt sick.
“Amanda…”
“There’s more. Derek Chen is also fake. His real name is Derek Winters. He works with Marcus; they run the scam together.”
“Derek pretends to be deaf to eavesdrop, to gain sympathy, to seem trustworthy. They’ve perfected it.”
“He’s not deaf?”
I whispered.
“Nope. And neither are the other partners you’ve met. They’re all in on it.”
“They’re setting up to drain your daughter’s accounts and disappear. Based on the pattern, I’d say they’re close to making their move.”
I gripped the folder.
“How do we stop them?”
“We need proof. We need to catch them in the act, on record, planning the theft. Then we go to the police.”
“The dinner,”
I said suddenly.
“Friday. They’ll all be there. If Derek thinks no one understands ASL except him and Sophie, and if Sophie isn’t in the room…”,
Tom leaned forward.
“They might communicate in sign language right in front of everyone.”
“I can understand every word.”
Tom smiled grimly.
“Then let’s set a trap.”
We planned carefully. Tom would be outside in a van recording.
I’d wear a small camera disguised as a brooch. Amanda couldn’t know; if she knew, she might confront Marcus and he’d run.
We needed him caught, arrested, and unable to hurt her or anyone else again. Friday arrived.
I dressed carefully in a navy blouse, the camera brooch pinned at my collar. I practiced staying calm.
I’d spent 40 years in emergency rooms staying calm under pressure; I could do this. Amanda’s house was beautiful that evening.
She decorated, cooked, and set out expensive wine. Sophie helped her mother in the kitchen, excited about the party.
She signed to me:
“Grandma, look what I made for my science project.”
She showed me a detailed model of the solar system, each planet carefully painted and labeled in both English and sign language.,
“It’s beautiful, sweetheart,”
I signed back.
“You’re so talented.”
Marcus emerged from the den in a crisp suit. He kissed Amanda’s cheek.
“Everything looks perfect, babe.”
The doorbell rang. Marcus answered it.
Derek entered followed by two other men I’d met before, Ryan and Scott. They all greeted Amanda warmly and complimented her home and her cooking.
They greeted me politely.
“Mrs. Morrison, so good to see you again.”
Derek signed hello to me. I signed back, keeping it simple and not showing how fluent I really was.
He seemed satisfied that I knew only basic signs. We sat down to dinner.
Amanda had made her specialty: herb-crusted salmon, roasted vegetables, and garlic mashed potatoes. The wine flowed, and conversation was light and pleasant.
Marcus told funny stories about his supposed real estate deals. The other men laughed at the right moments.
Sophie ate quietly, watching everyone. She was used to being left out of conversations when hearing people dominated; it broke my heart every time.
But tonight, I needed her to be elsewhere. After the main course, Amanda said:,
“Sophie, honey, why don’t you go work on your science project? You wanted to finish the asteroid belt, right?”
Sophie nodded and headed to her room upstairs. That’s when things changed.
Marcus glanced at his partners. Ryan casually signed to Derek:
“Is the kid gone?”
Derek signed back:
“Yes, upstairs.”
I kept my face neutral, eating my salmon and pretending to listen to Amanda talk about her latest marketing campaign. Scott signed to Marcus:
“When are we moving?”
Marcus signed back:
“Tuesday. Transfers are scheduled. New accounts are set up in the Caymans.”
My blood went cold. Derek signed:
“What about the property? When does she sign it over?”
Marcus signed:
“Monday. I told her it’s for tax purposes to put the house in a trust. She’ll sign everything. She trusts me completely.”
Ryan signed, smirking:
“And the old lady? The mother?”
Marcus glanced at me then signed back:
“She’s harmless, doesn’t understand anything we’re saying. I made sure she only knows baby signs.”
Amanda said her mother never got past basic ASL. Amanda had told him that.
I deliberately kept my skill level hidden from Marcus—something instinctive I couldn’t explain until now. Derek signed:
“What about the kid, Sophie?”
Marcus signed dismissively:
“She’s deaf, who’s she going to tell? And in sign language, please. By the time anyone figures it out, we’ll be gone.”
I set down my fork carefully. 40 years of nursing had taught me to control my reactions, even when a child was coding or even when parents were screaming.
I stayed calm. I stayed calm now.
Scott signed:
“So Tuesday we clear the accounts, you file for divorce from somewhere else, and we split the take.”
Marcus signed:
“800,000 split four ways. 200 each. Easy money. She’ll never even see it coming.”
Amanda was still talking, oblivious and excited about her campaign winning some award. Marcus smiled at her and touched her hand.
“That’s wonderful, babe. You’re so talented.”
I excused myself.
“Bathroom,”
I murmured. In the hallway, I texted Tom.
“They’re discussing it. Tuesday transferring $800K. Have it all on camera.”,
Tom texted back:
“Police are ready. Give the signal.”
I returned to the table. Amanda was serving dessert, chocolate lava cake—Marcus’s favorite.
Derek signed to the group:
“This is almost too easy. She’s so trusting.”
Ryan signed:
“They always are. Rich widows desperate for love.”
Marcus signed:
“Amanda’s the easiest mark yet. She handed me everything: bank accounts, property access, investment passwords. She even gave me power of attorney last month.”
My hands shook; I gripped my napkin. Scott signed:
“What if something goes wrong?”
Marcus signed:
“Nothing will go wrong. I’ve done this three times. We stick to the plan: Tuesday morning transfers complete by noon, we’re on a plane by 2 p.m. Different countries, different identities.”
Derek signed:
